


'Tis the Season

by lettersinpetals



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, Found Family, Getting Together, Hybrid Sakusa Kiyoomi, M/M, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Shifters and Fun Stuff Like That, This is a happy story, but really mostly light-hearted fluff, but still kinda canon compliant, mentions of abuse, mentions of injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:14:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28385328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersinpetals/pseuds/lettersinpetals
Summary: Miya Atsumu stumbles into an abandoned cat hybrid on Christmas morning, and he doesn’t know it yet, but it’s probably the best gift he’ll ever receive.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 46
Kudos: 603
Collections: SakuAtsu Fluff Week 2021





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kagehinabokeh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kagehinabokeh/gifts).



> This fic is for Ri (kagehinabokeh), who has been my bestest friend since I joined the sakuatsu fandom. Hybrid Omi has been Ri’s dream fic since forever and since it’s Christmas, I am making an Effort. Okay fine, it's way past Christmas, and I haven't finished writing this, but I will don't worry.
> 
> FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT LOOK TOO HARD INTO THE WORLDBUILDING AND PLOT BECAUSE I PULLED THIS OUTTA MY ASS IN BETWEEN NAPS. This is just gonna be some light-hearted stuff. Enjoy!
> 
> Update 02/15/2021: I'm posting the rest of the story in full for Day 2 of Fluff Week: Supernatural!

The sound of crying woke him up.

That in itself wasn’t strange — not anymore, anyway. The sound had been waking him up at past midnight for an entire week now, and it never failed to raise the hairs on his arms. He was never sure if it was the sound of a child wailing, or the sound of cats mating — all he knew was that it was sorrowful, nearly inhuman.

It was the sound of suffering.

Now, he wouldn’t say he was a monster, but he was far from being a saint. He had gotten fed up by the noise on the second night, and he stormed out to seek the source, bundled up in coats and scarves to shield himself from the winter chill. Despite his best efforts, his leg locked up due to the cold, which made him crankier.

He thought the sound came from the alleyway behind his apartment building. When he approached though, the crying stopped, and he stood still in the eerie silence, wondering if he dreamed it all. Thoroughly creeped out, he hurried back and decided in petty anger to just leave it be.

But it was the seventh night in a row of this now, and he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. He checked the time — it was barely 1 a.m. With a growl, he shuffled off his bed, wrapped himself in layers, and braved the cold once again.

This time, when he reached the alley, he found the reason behind his sleepless nights.

It was a long-limbed, scrawny thing, curled up on the icy concrete, shivering. Black eyes glimmered at him from underneath equally black curls when he approached. And peeking from its tangled mane were black furry ears. _Cat_ ears.

A hybrid.

Oh _hell_ no.

What were the chances of finding one just laying on the goddamn street? _His_ street? Hybrids were rare, and they wouldn’t dare just let themselves be vulnerable like this when they still feared by most. Society has come a long way in fighting for hybrids’ rights, and there were laws about discrimination against them now, but it was hard changing decades of prejudice. People still gave hybrids second glances whenever they saw one roaming freely on the street, and there were truly disgusting bastards who liked to treat them as nothing more than glorified pets.

This one, clearly male, looked like it fell into the second category — or at least, it used to. The collar on its neck gave it away. But its clothes were threadbare and ripped in places, and it was _barefoot_. And if it had been here for a week, sleeping beside a _garbage can_ of all things, and in the middle of winter, too...

It was just his luck to stumble into an abandoned pet hybrid on Christmas morning.

The longer he stood there, the more tense the hybrid seemed to become. A few more seconds into their stare-off, it hissed at him, claws slowly elongating.

 _Feral_ , he thought. _Dangerous_.

“Right, whatever,” he muttered. He was so not in the mood for this. And he wasn’t looking to get murdered — he very much did not want his bloody body to be flashed in the news anytime soon. That would be embarrassing.

He turned around, perhaps idiotically so, and began limping away. But just then, the hybrid’s hiss morphed into a whimper and he stopped in his tracks. The pitiful sound was like a needle to his frozen heart.

He shut his eyes briefly, then turned back around. He met the now wet eyes of the hybrid, who was shivering more violently than before.

 _Oh, fuck me_ , he thought. With a sigh, he started removing his coats and scarves. He hesitated, then tossed them over. They landed on the ground and the hybrid jumped, snarling at him threateningly.

“Best I could do,” he said, unsure if he was convincing himself of the hybrid. Good deed of the day done, he turned and decisively stomped back into his apartment.

He didn’t hear any more crying, but he still slept fitfully through the wee hours of the morning.

\--

When he woke again, pale daylight was creeping through his window. His phone was ringing insistently and he patted the mattress for it, barely glancing at his screen as he swiped to accept the call.

“What, Samu?”

“Well, Merry Christmas to you, too,” his twin snarked.

“Yeah, yeah,” he yawned. He didn’t see what the big deal was. The only reason their family even celebrated Christmas was because everyone else was doing it. They weren’t Christians. He had to admit the cheer was infectious, though.

It used to be, anyway. But right now, the whole _Christmas spirit_ was the farthest thing in his mind. He sat up with a groan, his knee aching.

“So, how are you?” Osamu prompted. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. You haven’t been answering my texts and calls.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Nothing new.”

“Mom and Dad are worried.”

“They’re always worried.”

“You _know_ why they’re worried, stop acting dumb,” Osamu said sharply.

He sighed, aggrieved. “Fine, I’ll call them, alright?”

“Call your teammates, too, while you’re at it. They’re worried, too, and they keep bugging me.”

“They’re not my teammates anymore,” he ground out.

“Can you stop with the dramatics? Of course they’re still your teammates. So you miss a season—”

He scoffed. “A season? My career’s fucking over, Samu.”

“Not if you recover, dumbass. Are you even attending your physical therapy?”

He didn’t answer. His head coach, Samson Foster, had been trying to get in touch with him lately, and he hadn’t been answering him either. He wasn’t about to explain to _Osamu_ of all people.

Osamu let out a sound of frustration. “That’s fucking it, I’m coming over—”

“Don’t,” he warned.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Osamu snapped. “And clearly you need a good smack on the head.” His twin hung up without bothering to say goodbye.

He tossed his phone away angrily and it bounced off his mattress and clattered to the floor. He ignored it, dragging himself up and into the bathroom, reluctantly starting his day. He didn’t have plans, but he supposed he should start cleaning, lest Osamu see the state of his apartment. He just hadn’t been in the mood to function properly lately. Or function at all, period. He’d be happy to sink into oblivion for the rest of his life.

The rational part of his brain was telling him he was probably self-destructing, but he conveniently ignored it.

He tossed days-old boxes of take away and plastic wrappers and clutter into a garbage bag and struggled past his door to dump it outside. He spent a while in the freezing cold, trying to dispose of his trash responsibly — fuck this segregation crap — and by the time he was walking back in, he’d decided against continuing his cleaning spree. He didn’t care what Osamu thought anyway. He was used to his nagging.

He limped grumpily back to his bed only to find it occupied. The sight that greeted him had him yelping and nearly braining himself on the doorway.

“What the hell —”

A low growl was the only response he received.

He stared, open-mouthed. The hybrid stared back at him, its long black tail flicking menacingly. Slung haphazardly over its shoulders was Atsumu’s coat, and his red scarf was strewn across his bed and floor like it had been dragged along.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” he finally asked in astonishment.

No answer. The hybrid refused to look away from him.

“Right.” Heart pounding, he backed away and closed his bedroom door, shutting the hybrid inside.

For once, he was glad that Osamu was coming over.

\--

“You have a _what_?” Osamu demanded. His twin was looking at him as if he’d gone crazy, which he dimly thought might be deserved, given the past few months.

“I have an abandoned pet hybrid on my bed,” he said for the third time. “But I swear I didn’t bring it there. It snuck in!”

Osamu walked past him into the kitchen, placing bags of Onigiri Miya and groceries on the table. He rubbed his forehead. “Okay, tell me the story again from the start.”

He did. By the time he was done, Osamu’s expression had turned resolute.

“Alright, we clearly have to take care of it.”

“We have to _what_ now?”

“Take care of it,” Osamu said slowly, as if he was an idiot. “You said it was thin and shivering when you found him. How could you even leave him? It’s freezing out there!”

He ran a hand over his hair in irritation. “Look, Samu, I can’t take care of shit—”

“Clearly, you can’t,” his twin said, eyeing him from head to toe. “Jeez, if your fans could see you now...”

Shaking his head, Osamu abandoned the thought and brushed past him, making a beeline to his bedroom door.

When he pushed it open though, there was a wild roar, scaring Osamu into slamming it back shut. Something hit the door with a thump, making them both jump.

“Oh my god, it’s feral,” Osamu said hysterically. “You have a _feral hybrid_ in your room. _Atsumu_.”

“That’s what I fucking told you —”

“No, you said it was _abandoned_! There’s a difference between abandoned and feral, Tsumu! It nearly attacked me! On sight!”

“It must be pretty smart,” he mused. “I mean, we’re twins, we look alike. How could it tell the difference?”

“We have different hair colors, duh,” Osamu pointed out, rolling his eyes. “And they have a keen sense of smell, don’t they?”

“Oh, yeah.” He paused. “Let’s confirm that...”

He walked over and shoved Osamu away. Taking a deep breath, he cracked open the door. When no snarling commenced, he pushed it open further.

The hybrid was sitting on the bed like a well-behaved kitten. He’d believe that was the case, if his poor, battered phone wasn’t on the ground near the door. His eyebrow twitched when he realized it was what was thrown earlier. He picked it up.

Pushing down his temper, he curtly said, “Hi.”

No answer yet again.

“Samu, go get the food,” he muttered.

He felt his twin walk past behind him, and watched as the hybrid tensed and started hissing.

“Hey,” he snapped, and the hissing stopped. “No being mean to my twin, got it?”

The hybrid glared at him murderously, eyes glinting. A chill traveled down his spine. _Scary_ , he thought. _More animal than man_.

Apprehension washed over him. He needed to get rid of the thing, _now_.

He felt Osamu’s presence near him and held his hand out. He curled his fingers over the paper bag passed to him, and warily made his way into his room, waving at Osamu to stay put. The hybrid had many chances to attack him last night and when he first encountered it here a while ago, but fortunately or unfortunately, Miya Atsumu still lived.

When he reached his bed, the hybrid studied him suspiciously. When it didn’t look like he was about to charge at Atsumu, he bravely sat down, slowly opening the paper bag.

“We got you food,” he said, feeling silly. He dug around and grasped an onigiri in his hand. Praying to the gods that he wouldn’t suffer a violent death, he offered it without another thought.

The hybrid darted forward, and Atsumu’s heart jumped to his throat. But the creature just sniffed the food before practically falling face-first into his hand, eating from it eagerly and messily.

“I hope you don’t take a chunk of my hand,” he joked nervously. “Accidentally or otherwise.”

“Are you insane?” he heard Osamu whisper angrily from the doorway. “Just leave the food and come back out here!”

He nearly had a heart attack when the hybrid looked up, bits of rice sticking around its mouth, and snarled lowly.

“Shut the fuck up, Osamu,” Atsumu gritted out. “It doesn’t like you.”

He carefully pulled his hand back, onigiri all but gone. His palm was smeared with leftovers and saliva.

Gross.

Before he could retreat though, the hybrid rested the tips of his clawed fingertips on Atsumu’s forearm and let out a rumble.

“I think it wants more,” Osamu said, prompting a louder, angrier growl.

“I said shut up,” he hissed, not daring to look away from the creature in front of him. He took out all the onigiri from the bag and placed them on the mattress in front of the hybrid.

Atsumu slowly and quietly stood up and backed away as the hybrid continued its meal. He quickly shut the door again when he reached it, releasing a sigh of relief.

“Holy shit,” Osamu whispered. “What the hell are you gonna do?”

“Why are you asking me?” he whispered back angrily. “ _You’re_ supposed to figure this shit out!”

“I’m not the one that thing followed! What the hell, Tsumu! Why do you always get yourself into these messes?”

“I just did one, _one_ act of kindness —”

Osamu sighed in frustration. “Come on, I’ll go make more food.”

\--

As Osamu began cooking what looked like a feast, Atsumu set about researching hybrids. He knew the basics, having been taught about them when he was in school.

The thing about hybrids was that they’re unnatural. _Wrong_. When the existence of shifters were made known a century ago, there was fear, sure, but ultimately acceptance. People were fine believing in gods, they were fine believing in spiritual creatures, they were fine believing in things like miracles, and prayers, even magic. Animals that could turn into humans? Yeah, fine. At some point they were even _worshipped_ , especially the original families of shifters, which included foxes, and panthers, and owls.

Things took a darker turn when science and greed came into the mix. People suddenly wanted to know what made these shifters tick, arguing that their existence wasn’t magic but simple biology. They wanted to learn them, wanted to preserve them, wanted to _reproduce_ them.

Naturally, the shifters weren't a fan of this idea. But them being a minority, they couldn’t fight against the growing calls for knowledge.

Thus began one of the darkest periods in Japanese history: laboratory experiments were conducted not just on abducted shifters, but humans, too.

But the scientists never succeeded in their goal. They never managed to isolate and recreate the so-called shifter gene — instead they created something new: chimeras, or more popularly known as hybrids. Half-human, half-animal. Stuck in between, forever.

It took years before public outcry against the “inhumane” experiments reached fever pitch, finally leading to the shutdown of the labs. The shifters went into hiding for some decades, only resurfacing a few years ago, but hybrids were let loose into the wild. And, inevitably, they reproduced and multiplied.

The chimera gene was a recessive one, if he remembered correctly. This made hybrids rare — rare enough that families unaware of their hybrid ancestry were shocked to find themselves having babies with strange features: gold eyes, strangely-shaped ears, pronounced tailbones, among others. That’s why there were known cases of homeless hybrids — they were often kicked out of their homes when their traits truly begin to make themselves known when they’re around five years old. He supposed it’s a bit shocking to have your child suddenly sprouting wings or tails. 

But he knew it was likely the stigma around hybrids that truly scared them. When spotting hybrids, people immediately associated them with words like ‘experiment’ and ‘inhuman.’ Unnatural. _Wrong_.

These homeless hybrids were seen as threats to society, because driven to desperation, they could turn feral. And with their animalistic qualities, they could harm innocent people. In order to address this issue, a handful of institutions — which insisted on being called _shelters_ — were built through the years. But not all of the homeless hybrids were saved.

Some were picked up and sold. And they don’t always end up in good hands. If they were lucky, they ended up in some rich man’s mansion, caged and mostly ignored.

If they weren’t...well, they would have been better off in the streets.

Deciding that the first thing he needed to do was contact these shelters, he went to the living room and made some calls. There were only two in Osaka out of the ten in the entire Kansai region. A few stressful minutes later, he walked back to the kitchen to find Osamu sitting on the dining table, done with cooking in the meantime.

“Well?” Osamu asked.

“They’re both overcapacity!” he complained. “Can you believe that?”

“I can, actually. It’s the peak of winter, _and_ it’s holiday season. Nobody wants to leave homeless hybrids freezing and hungry on the streets on Christmas, Tsumu. That’s just you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, was I supposed to fucking invite a feral creature into my home in the middle of the night?”

Osamu rolled his eyes. “Whatever. What did they say?”

“They were surprisingly uncooperative,” he grumbled. “Neither shelters are very big in the first place and they took in a bunch this winter. They just ‘ _kindly’_ asked that I take care of the hybrid myself, especially since we’ve already ‘ _formed an attachment_.’ They just meant ‘ _since you’re not dead yet_.’ I tried to tell them it was feral, but they didn’t seem to believe me!”

“Well, you have to admit, if it _was_ feral, it should have attacked you by now,” Osamu pointed out. “Maybe it’s not too far gone. You’ll probably be fine.”

He gaped at his twin. “What the hell are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying the thing hates me and probably wouldn’t hesitate to kill _me_ , but it was fine eating from _your_ hand. Not to mention it followed _you_ here.”

“If you’re trying to tell me —”

“To shelter it? Yes, yes that’s exactly what I’m trying to tell you.”

“Listen, Samu, I cannot handle this shit right now —”

“You have all the time in the world,” Osamu pointed out. “You’re not playing volleyball, you’re not going to physical therapy, you don’t have holiday plans, you’re pushing away all your friends and loved ones —”

“This is starting to feel like a personal attack.”

“What the hell else are you gonna do? Mope every day?” Osamu gave him a stern glance. “Who knows, maybe this will be good for you.”

He groaned and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. “Can’t you take it?”

“I have no room, you know that.” He did know that. Osamu lived in a tiny room above his shop in Hyogo. He barely fit in there and he lived alone.

“Maybe the team could take it in?” He dropped his hands and looked at Osamu hopefully. “The sharehouse is big enough, and I still have a room there…”

“Sure,” Osamu snorted. “You go tell them, then.”

He paused. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with his teammates right now. Even just looking at them was too painful. Besides, after the holidays, the V. League season would be picking up again.

He also did not want them ripped to shreds, no matter how rocky his relationship with them was right now.

“Fine,” he ground out. “Fine! But just during the holidays. I understand _‘tis the season of giving_ or whatever, but surely the shelters would free up after the New Year.”

“Good.” Osamu actually looked rather pleased. He stood up and stretched. “I made food for two, good for a week. You’re welcome.”

“Are you leaving?” He felt mildly bereft, not that he’d admit it.

“Yep. Shop’s open today, you know. I just dropped by to check on you.”

“Right.” He pouted. “Whatever. Thanks, I guess.”

Osamu rested a hand on his shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Tsumu.”

“Merry Christmas, Samu.”

His twin tightened his grip. “Reply to your teammates.”

“Fine.”

He didn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

He allowed himself to have a mini meltdown in the kitchen before figuring out his next steps. The thing obviously needed water and a bath and new clothes and a bed.

How the fuck was he supposed to go about that? Should he call Bokuto for help? His teammate tended to be simple-minded, but when he was interested in something, he knew _everything_ about it. And Bokuto had always been interested in hybrids.

But Atsumu wasn’t quite ready to face him yet. Instead, he filled up one of his ramen bowls with water and nervously made his way towards the door again. He knocked, then slowly pushed open the door, peeking inside.

The hybrid was licking its fingers, as if it was cleaning itself. Its eyes unerringly found Atsumu and locked on him. But it didn’t move a muscle.

Atsumu cleared his throat and shuffled inside. When he reached the bed, he placed the bowl of water on the mattress.

The hybrid leaned down to sniff at it, then started drinking. Like a cat. Atsumu watched in fascination. He’d never actually been up close and personal with a hybrid, nevermind a feral one. He knew, of course, that hybrids walked and talked and _acted_ like humans, but there was something about the way they moved that was eerily animalistic.

But feral ones were a different case entirely. These were the ones who have lost touch with their humanity. Best case scenario, they recover and reassimilate themselves into society; worst case scenario, they lose themselves completely and get locked up in one of those bigger shelters that have facilities to imprison them. Forever.

Watching the hybrid, he wondered what would have happened if the shelters nearby had space and took it away.

He cleared his throat. “So, can you understand me?”

The hybrid stopped drinking and raised his head, water trickling down the sides of its mouth.

“I’m Atsumu,” he tried. “Uh...what’s your name?”

This was ridiculous. A potentially dangerous feral creature was in his _home_ , and he was sitting and chatting with it as if it was a normal day.

He rose slowly. “Anyway, I’ll just —” He backed away, then slowly made his way around his room, picking up his charger and grabbing an extra blanket from his closet. “Bye.”

With the door safely shut between them again, he wondered why _he_ was the one left to sleep on the couch. “Dammit.”

He’d figure it out later. It was just past lunch, and he hadn’t eaten yet, but a nap sounded good.

Settling on the couch, he slept the morning’s stress away.

\--

When he woke, the first thing he noticed was that it was dark, and that there was a warm weight half on top of him.

His heart slammed against his chest when he realized what it was.

Breathing shallowly, he slowly wormed himself out from under the hybrid, letting it curl on the couch, still in its tattered clothes. It didn’t wake.

He breathed out in relief. “What the fuck,” he whispered.

Moonlight streamed through the windows and he crept across the room and flicked on the lights. He studied the hybrid, sleeping peacefully in the spot Atsumu vacated. It was kinda...cute.

_Maybe you’re not so scary after all, huh?_

He headed to the kitchen to heat some of the food Osamu had left for them. He wasn't hungry, but the thing was scarily light and bony.

After setting the warm food on the table, he went to the living room only to find the hybrid gone.

Warily, he went to his bedroom. The door had been left open. A closer inspection showed that the wood now sported deep scratches and the doorknob was hanging uselessly, ripped out of its hole. “Holy fuck,” he breathed. Nervously, he called out, “Uh, hello?”

There were sounds coming from the bathroom, filling him with alarm. He hurried over, only to find his bathroom door in the same condition.

And inside the tub was the hybrid, trying to claw at the faucet.

“What are you doing,” he exclaimed, annoyance chasing away his fear.

The hybrid whipped around to hiss at him, elongated nails resting on the faucet.

He stared at it, lost. “You — you want a _bath_?”

Tail slowly flicking side to side, the hybrid retracted its claws, keeping its eyes on Atsumu. Somehow, Atsumu understood that to mean, _Yes, idiot human, now figure this shit out before I claw this into ruins, too._

Baffled, he approached and turned on the faucet. “Thought cats didn’t like water. But this is a good thing, you reek.”

A growl.

“Maybe take your clothes off first, kitty cat,” he suggested.

A louder growl.

He supposed it didn’t appreciate the nickname. “Well, let’s get to it, then. It would be in everyone’s best interests if you’re clean.”

Amazingly enough, the hybrid let him peel off what remained of its clothes. It shook its body as if relieved to be free of them, and pawed at the slowly rising water.

Feeling generous, Atsumu dug around for his old bath bombs and dropped it in the tub when the water was high enough.

Startled, the hybrid hissed at it, but ended up watching in fascination as the lime green color spread on the water. It tried to claw at it a couple times, making Atsumu snicker. _Adorable_.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. And his life was clearly not in any immediate danger.

He detached the shower head from the wall and turned it on. The hybrid willingly ducked under it. “You’re so weird,” he marveled. He soaked its wild locks with water and plucked the shampoo off the shelf. He poured a generous amount on the top of its head.

“I’m going to touch your head,” he warned. He truly didn’t want to, because what if it had _lice?_ How long had it been on the streets?

But he was certain it wouldn’t know how to clean its hair.

He stretched a hand out, worried that the hybrid would skewer his hand off, but it just stared at Atsumu’s hand suspiciously. When his fingertips met its scalp, the hybrid froze.

A tense moment passed. When the hybrid didn’t move, he started gently massaging the shampoo into its hair.

Then a sound slipped out off the hybrid’s lips and he paused. The sound picked up again when he started moving his fingers again.

A _purr_.

 _It likes this_ , he thought in sheer amazement. _Holy shit._

He got braver by the second, until he was properly lathering up the tangled hair. He picked up the shower head again. “Close your eyes.”

When the hybrid did, he was _sure_ it understood every word he said.

 _Can you just not talk then?_ he wondered.

He rinsed the shampoo off, making sure to run water over the hybrid’s face before struggling back up to his feet. “Come on, up.”

The hybrid gracefully stood up, water cascading down its body. Atsumu ran his gaze over mole-dotted pale skin, horrified at the way the bones were sticking out.

Grabbing a towel hanging from the wall, Atsumu dried the hybrid as best as he could. When his knuckle jostled its collar, he paused.

Carefully, he twisted it for a closer look. “Kiyoomi?”

The hybrid’s ears perked up, and it looked at Atsumu with wide gleaming eyes.

“Kiyoomi? Is that your name?”

It let out a mewl that almost sounded like agreement.

That was...such a human name. Kiyoomi. It wasn’t a common name, but it was a name. A random kid on the street could have that name.

It was freakishly normal.

 _Kiyoomi_.

“Alright then,” he said slowly. He paused, a thought striking him. “Do you...want me to take this off?”

The hybrid — _Kiyoomi_ — nodded.

“Okay, dude, you totally understand me,” he accused.

Kiyoomi tilted its — _his_ head to the side, ear twitching.

Atsumu sighed. “Whatever.”

The skin around the collar was irritated and chafed, as if Kiyoomi had tried to claw it off multiple times. Atsumu had to use shears to snap off the leather, and when it was off, Kiyoomi let out a sigh.

What proved to be the next problem was clothes. Of all the fucking things.

“You have to wear sweatpants!” Atsumu snapped.

The hybrid yowled furiously in protest from the corner of the room it — no, _he_ — had nestled himself in, clawing at the wall rebelliously.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Stomping towards his closet, Atsumu rummaged through his clothes, finally pulling out loose drawstring boxers. Then he dug around for his biggest and comfiest cotton sweater. He whirled around and presented his findings. “Are boxers acceptable, your highness?”

He received a snarl, but it was better than the angry howls from earlier. Warily, he approached, making sure to show the boxers like a peace offering.

Kiyoomi didn’t move.

Gesturing, Atsumu said, “Up. Or I’m kicking you out.”

After making a show of baring his sharp canines threateningly, Kiyoomi finally stood up. When his tail flicked around, Atsumu realized he had to cut a hole for that.

“Okay, one sec.” 

He used the shears on the boxers and soon enough, he was helping Kiyoomi into it, eyes respectfully averted. Miraculously, Kiyoomi let him put the sweater on him without much protest.

“Now, doesn’t that feel better?”

Kiyoomi just gave him a pointed glance and he realized he didn’t know when he last showered.

Alright, that was a bit embarrassing.

Atsumu replaced the sheets on his bed and dumped the ruined ones — fucking hybrid, did he think these were cheap? — in the hamper, followed by the clothes he was wearing. He trotted into the shower bare naked, sighing in relief when the hot water hit him.

_What the hell am I gonna do? I am so in over my head._

How was he supposed to take care of a hybrid when he barely remembered to bathe and feed himself? This whole situation was fucked up.

He comforted himself by thinking that by the end of the holidays, he’d be surrendering Kiyoomi to a shelter. He didn’t care if he had to drive to another city for it.

\--

When he woke up with the hybrid curled on top of him on the couch for the second time in a row, Atsumu announced, “That’s fucking it. I’m moving back into my goddamn room.”

Kiyoomi merely grumbled and nestled against him aggressively.

Atsumu dumped him on the couch and went to his room.

What he saw there nearly triggered a breakdown.

His bed was ruined — the sheets were clawed to pieces, the mattress was spewing out tufts of cushion, and his pillows looked like they were _murdered_.

All he wanted was a good night’s rest, dammit.

Throat tight and stomach heavy, he slumped down on his ruined bed and rested his forehead on the palm of his hand, taking deep breaths. Sniffling, he wondered how much a new mattress would cost. He wasn’t in a good place financially — he earned well as a professional volleyball player, but he was out of commission and he had hospital bills and medicine to pay for — he used to earn a lot through endorsements and modeling gigs, but he could hardly do those in his current condition. And worse, it was going to take a while before that mattress felt like home.

It was that thought that had him sobbing like an idiot.

He looked up when he felt a presence at the doorway. Kiyoomi was peeking through the door to watch him with wide eyes, the sweater hanging off his shoulders, showing off protruding collarbones. He really should gain some weight.

When Atsumu didn’t say a word, Kiyoomi approached carefully, sitting beside him on the mattress he’d ruined.

Dammit, Atsumu couldn’t even get angry at the thing. But he was bone-deep tired and it was only the third day.

“Kiyoomi...look, you can’t stay here, alright?”

The hybrid stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“I can’t take care of you, okay? I have no idea where to even start with that. There are shelters—”

He was interrupted by a furious hiss. Kiyoomi’s nails elongated again, clawing and further shredding the sheets. Annoyance welled up in Atsumu.

“Oh my _god_ — see that — that’s _exactly_ the shit I can’t handle right now, alright, I’m not a fucking patient person, for gods’ sake, I have enough to deal with —”

Kiyoomi retracted his claws. He looked away, body stiff.

“Look,” he attempted again, calmer now. He tried to remember he was a 23-year-old _adult_ and that he only looked ridiculous arguing with some creature he wasn’t even sure was understanding him a hundred percent. “I never asked for this. I never asked for you. You might have imprinted on me or whatever, but just because I did something nice for a change doesn’t mean I’m fit to be your babysitter. Alright? This is not the best place for you right now. You’re going to the damn shelter after this.”

By the time he finished his rant, Kiyoomi’s eyes were lowered to the ground and his ears had flattened. But he didn’t make a sound. He must have understood then.

Atsumu stood up with a sigh, deciding there was nothing else to do but sleep the day away. Again.

Maybe tomorrow would be better, but he wasn’t counting on it.

\--

This time, he was awoken by a poke on his cheek. He blinked his eyes open, startled, only to find Kiyoomi’s inky dark eyes staring down at him. 

Atsumu yelped, scrambling back to the corner of the couch. “Jesus! _What_?”

Kiyoomi glanced to the floor, making Atsumu peek down as well. There was a tupperware of food there.

“What? You’re hungry?” Atsumu asked in confusion. If Kiyoomi managed to get the food, he didn’t understand why he was needed.

But the hybrid only pushed the tupperware closer to the couch and looked at Atsumu expectantly.

“ _Oh_. For me?”

Kiyoomi nodded once, firmly. 

_“_ Have _you_ eaten?”

Kiyoomi shook his head no.

Heart melting, Atsumu picked up the tupperware. It was cool to the touch.

He shoved the blankets off of him and stood up. “Come on, I’ll heat us both some food.”

As he waited for their meal to be warmed up in the microwave, he checked the time. It was evening — he really did sleep the day away. But he was still tired.

 _All I’ve been doing is sleep lately_ , he mulled. _My sleep cycle is fucked._

Maybe he should try to get back to working out? But that would mean he’d have to go back to physical therapy first. He didn’t want to damage his leg any further.

The ding of the microwave interrupted his thoughts, and he set the food on the table. Kiyoomi managed to climb a chair, and in the next moment, stuck his face in the tupperware.

“That’s hot,” Atsumu pointed out.

But Kiyoomi just kept eating.

 _He’s hungry,_ he realized. Of course he was, Atsumu didn’t feed him at all today.

Guilt lodged in his stomach. When he remembered that Kiyoomi had managed to grab a tupperware from the refrigerator — how’d he do that? — and still offered it to Atsumu, something in him melted.

With a sigh, Atsumu started setting up daily alarms on his phone: “Feed Kiyoomi breakfast” at 8 a.m., “Bathe Kiyoomi” at 10 a.m., “Feed Kiyoomi lunch” at 12 p.m., and “Feed Kiyoomi dinner” at 8 p.m.

Did hybrids eat more than that? Shit, were there things hybrids weren’t allowed to eat?

They were still human, weren’t they? So they must enjoy human things as well. Would Kiyoomi eat pizza?

He was shaken from his musings when Kiyoomi pushed a tupperware towards him again. Bits of rice were stuck on his cheek, and Atsumu snorted fondly.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” He picked up his chopsticks and ate.

And when he returned to the couch to sleep and saw Kiyoomi hovering a few feet away, he held open the blanket and defeatedly sighed, “Come here. Careful with the leg.” He moved the leg in question.

Kiyoomi’s elbows were bony, but he supposed he was just glad they were both warm.


	3. Chapter 3

_How many times does my world have to spin out of control?_ he wondered as he studied himself in the foggy mirror.

First the whole heartbreak thing, then the whole injury thing, then this whole hybrid thing. All of that in a span of months? Couldn’t he get a break?

With a sigh, he exited the bathroom and immediately thought, _This was not the life I ever envisioned for myself._

Kiyoomi was lounging on his newly delivered futon, which had been covered with freshly laundered old sheets. It was the only thing he could afford for now. He had lifted his bed frame and placed it against the wall to make room for it.

“Nope,” Atsumu announced. “Nope, you are not sleeping there.” He pointed to the door. “ _The couch_ is your bed. Me sleeping there has not been good for my leg, so you’re taking that.”

Kiyoomi merely narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t make me change my mind about letting you stay,” he warned.

With a furious pout, Kiyoomi slunk out of his covers and stomped out the room.

 _This damn brat_ , he thought.

Having grown up with a twin, Atsumu knew how much of a pain it was to live with another person.

But it was apparently worse to live with a _hybrid_. Especially a hybrid like Kiyoomi.

Atsumu didn’t know what conditions he lived in before he was abandoned, but he was high maintenance and _spoiled_.

They got into a screaming match on the fifth day. Well, _he_ screamed, Kiyoomi yowled. Atsumu wouldn't be surprised if his ears had bled.

He _was_ surprised Kiyoomi didn’t slash his throat where he stood...on his tail. It wasn’t his goddamn fault the thing was lying around when he was walking past the couch. He didn’t even realize he’d stepped on it until Kiyoomi was surging up with a snarl, headbutting Atsumu straight onto the ground.

The impact had jarred his leg, the ensuing pain triggering a rush of defensive anger. The subsequent and completely pointless argument was enough to give him a damn migraine.

“I can’t do this,” he said into his phone as he gently massaged heat rub cream on his knee. He sat on his living room couch, hiding from Kiyoomi. This whole thing was a bad idea from the start.

“It's literally been less than a week,” Osamu replied.

“He nearly killed me.”

“You probably deserved it.”

“He’s feral! This is hopeless. There are other people who are better suited to handle him.”

“But there aren’t many people willing to.”

“ _I’m_ not willing. What makes you think I’m fucking willing?”

“Toss him out, then,” Osamu challenged. “Can you?”

“I can,” he snapped. “Just watch me.”

Later that night, Kiyoomi crawled into his futon and tucked himself into Atsumu’s warmth. And he didn’t have the heart to push him away.

And when they woke up cuddling, they were both too proud to acknowledge it.

The futon was big enough, anyway.

Something about that night warmed the air between them, and days started passing by easier.

Atsumu sent Osamu daily updates about Kiyoomi, who now acted as if the apartment was his own. Sick of slicing open his clothes, Atsumu went ahead and tapped his measly savings to buy hybrid-specific things, such as bottoms with slits in them, and a Santa hat with openings for the ears.

Fine, the last one was completely unnecessary, but he couldn’t pass up the chance. The moment the delivery arrived, he gleefully placed the hat on the hybrid, who could do nothing but glare at him hatefully.

“You’re so cute,” Atsumu crooned. “Oh man, I gotta take photos. No, wait! I have a red sweater somewhere!”

He scampered towards his room to fetch said sweater and wrestled Kiyoomi into it. Then he stuffed the hat back on.

“Okay, be still.” Atsumu took way too many photos, but could he be faulted for that? This was too goddamn adorable. Especially with the way Kiyoomi was pouting, cheeks flushed and puffed out.

Kiyoomi was slowly and steadily gaining weight. Ever since he figured out how to open the refrigerator without ruining the handle, he would often snack — he’d nibble on carrots, cucumbers, apples. Good thing Osamu had sent a bunch of groceries.

Meals though, they always ate together. Atsumu was being forced to abide by a strict schedule, from eating to even _bathing_. It annoyed him a little, but what choice did he have?

He was gaining weight, too.

To kill time during the day, he made Kiyoomi watch shows and movies with him. Sometimes, he’d read books aloud for him. He found himself learning to enjoy the things he’d lost interest in, and even things he’d never _been_ interested in.

Atsumu hummed as he scrolled through the website he’d randomly clicked on. “Ya think I can take care of plants?”

Kiyoomi let out a lazy purr and turned his back on him, smacking him with his tail as he nuzzled his pillow sleepily.

“I’ll take that as a yes. But you can’t ruin the plants, okay?”

Another tail smack.

Days of studying Kiyoomi led Atsumu to the conclusion that he was rather strange for a hybrid. He was tall, so much taller than the average cat hybrid, and he didn’t act like them, either. Feline hybrids had roots from families of housecats — they were domestic, almost lazy, with an easy going temperament.

Everything about Kiyoomi screamed wild and dangerous. Maybe it was just because of what he’d been through on the streets? He gave the impression that he was just _letting_ Atsumu have his way, because following him for now served his objectives. Whatever those were.

If he were to stretch his imagination, Atsumu would say he was more like a panther. But that was impossible — panther hybrids were nonexistent. Panthers were among the original shifter families that had never been nabbed for experiments, and he didn’t even know if they were still in _existence_.

After a week, Osamu found the courage to visit again. This time, Kiyoomi settled for glaring at him, curling around Atsumu — as a show of dominance, perhaps? He had no idea. Kiyoomi didn’t make sense to him at all.

“Well, you look better,” Osamu observed. “Neither of you look like corpses anymore, so that’s good.”

“I’m offended that you’d even doubt me,” Atsumu said snottily.

Osamu didn’t deign to respond. He placed bags of groceries on the ground and then bags of tupperware on the table. “Here. More food.”

“Samu, ya didn’t have to. I could just order.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not having you two live off on junk. Don’t worry about it.” Osamu leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Your teammates said you haven’t gotten in touch with them.”

Atsumu shifted uncomfortably. “I’ll get to it.”

“Tsumu,” Osamu sighed. “You know he didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Leave it alone, Samu,” he ground out, body stiffening.

Kiyoomi must have felt his displeasure because he started growling dangerously.

“Omi, stop that,” he ordered, and Kiyoomi went silent.

“ _Omi_?” Osamu repeated.

“Yeah, it’s his nickname,” he explained patiently. He personally thought it was ingenious; he was already attached to it. “Omi, short for Kiyoomi. His name’s a handful, alright? He pretends to hate it, but he likes it, I know it.” Even though the hybrid refused to respond to it half of the time.

“Right,” Osamu said slowly. He shook his head sharply. “Anyway, either talk to your teammates or start going back to physical therapy. Pick a struggle, Tsumu.”

“Or what?” he challenged.

“I don’t know, how long are you going to let yourself be frozen like this? Life’s moving on without you, Atsumu. Either you get back to it or it leaves you behind.”

Atsumu thought about that long after his twin left. Osamu always did have a way of getting under his skin.

He wasn’t ready to talk to his teammates, even though a part of him itched to call Bokuto and tell him about what’s been going on. So he went for the other option — he called his physiotherapist.

\--

“I left food out on the table,” Atsumu said.

Kiyoomi nodded.

“And there’s water for you, too.”

Another nod.

“Don’t open the door for anyone but me, don’t ruin any more things, and _do not_ go out.”

A pout, and then a nod.

“Okay.” Atsumu hesitated. “Um, bye.”

But when he turned away, claws latched themselves onto his sleeves, a yowl sounding in his ear.

“Omi!” he snapped, wincing. “What’s wrong with you?”

When he turned back around, Kiyoomi was right up in his face, looking upset.

Atsumu pried his fingers off of him and sternly said, “We talked about this. I’ll be gone for _one_ hour. I’m going to my therapy session, you can’t come with me — what do you think they’d do if they try to talk to you and you try to scare them or even attack them, huh? That’s right, they’ll ship you off to the nearest facility! Do you want that?”

Kiyoomi gave him a deadly glare.

“Unless you can somehow pose as a human, you can’t come with me outside, okay? Now _stay_.”

This time Kiyoomi let him leave without any complaints.

The rehabilitation center was a two-stop train ride away. The commute was easy — walking into the building was the hardest part. The second hardest part was bearing the kindness and relief of his old nurses and doctors.

The _third_ hardest part was accepting the reality slap from his old physiotherapist.

“It's supposed to hurt before it gets better,” Dr. Minato said, when Atsumu refused to explain why he stopped going to his sessions a month ago. “And since you discontinued it before you can get better, you'll be back to being in pain once again.”

He supposed he deserved that. Stubbornly, he kept his mouth shut.

Minato gentled his tone. “I know, I _know_ , it's disheartening when you feel like you're not making any progress, but just think — when you first tore your ACL, you couldn't even move your leg. Now, you might think that just because you had surgery that you're good and dandy, but you need to get that leg used to your normal range of motion. And your normal range of motion includes sports. You still want to play volleyball, don’t you?”

A beat, and then Atsumu nodded slowly. He _did_ want to play volleyball again. Of course he did.

In his misery, he’d convinced himself to give up and accept that his old life was gone, but maybe...maybe it wasn’t.

He was just taking a break.

“You have a lot of work ahead of you,” Minato warned. “We can't force you to get better, you have to decide that for yourself. You ready?”

For the past few months, he’d increasingly been asking himself, _‘What’s the point?’_

Why suffer? Wouldn’t it be easier to just _stop_? Stop suffering, stop hurting, stop making an effort. Life’s a bitch and then you die, right?

But if he died, who’d feed Kiyoomi?

That damn bratty hybrid was still waiting for Atsumu to come home. Besides, it would probably be easier to take care of him if he had two functioning legs instead of just one.

Atsumu met Minato’s eyes. “I’m ready.”

It was time to quit this losing streak.

\--

When Minato said he’d be back to being in pain, he didn’t think he’d be in _this_ much pain.

He wobbled home, weak and aching, and collapsed on the couch the moment he stepped into his apartment.

Kiyoomi was pressed against him a second later, making confused little sounds.

“I’m fine,” he groaned out. “Physical therapy is a bitch. Tell me, why does healing have to hurt?”

Short claws pawed at his hair. Kiyoomi probably thought that was comforting. What a silly thing.

Atsumu cracked his eyes open and studied the hybrid. “Were you good today?”

Kiyoomi nodded, pawing at Atsumu’s hair again.

Heart melting, Atsumu reached over and curled his arm around Kiyoomi’s back, tugging him closer. The hybrid knew to avoid his leg now, and climbed over him to squeeze himself between Atsumu and the back of the couch.

They cuddled like that for a while, Atsumu carding his fingers through Kiyoomi’s curly hair as the hybrid purred. There was something off about him that Atsumu couldn’t place. He dismissed it for now.

“So,” he began. “That session was a bitch. But I guess that’s what I get for skipping an entire month. Do you know, Omi, I didn't used to be such a loser? I was a really badass volleyball player, I swear.”

Kiyoomi’s purrs quieted, which Atsumu took as a signal to continue.

“I’ve been playing the sport since I was a kid. It’s the one thing I love, aside from my family, I guess. And now it’s literally my life — pays my bills and shit. Been in a pro team for over four years now. It’s been good.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts, making himself push through the bad memories.

“And then he came back. Hinata Shouyou.” Atsumu smiled briefly in fondness. “My team went against his a few times back in high school. I’m not ashamed to admit I had a bit of a crush on him even back then. Forgot about him for a bit when I became pro and he trained in beach volleyball in Brazil — but then he _came back_. To _my team_. Here in Osaka. I’m no coward, you know. Asked him out.”

Kiyoomi looked up at him at that.

“I thought we were good. We were happy. But...things started to change when he encountered Kageyama Tobio again — they were old teammates, partners or whatever — during the first match of this year’s V. League. I should have known...the familiarity, the looks...there were feelings there. But I was a stubborn dumbass who didn’t know how to quit. I ignored the signs. Shouyou was quieter, kinda jittery, just kinda uncomfortable and unhappy, you know? I should have asked what was wrong, but I didn’t want to see. Well, it smacked me in the face when I caught them kissing outside the locker room after the Jackals’ match against the Raijins.”

A growl rumbled in Kiyoomi’s chest.

“Yeah, can you believe that? Shouyou said it was an accident, they were carried away in a moment of passion or whatever. I just walked right outta there. Shouyou and the team were chasing me, but I didn’t wanna listen, and it just got so shitty since then...I know they thought I was being immature because I refused to talk about it and everything got tense, but hell, couldn’t they give me a break?”

The growling intensified and Atsumu patted Kiyoomi’s head to calm him.

“So I was distracted, right? The season had barely started. I was so out of it for our next match, I got too aggressive and careless. Landed wrong, slipped on the floor. That hurt like hell, by the way. They rushed me to the hospital and, yeah. We found out I tore my ACL. Had to get _surgery_ , of all things. I’m out for the rest of the season, and the team’s not doing well...I haven’t talked to any of them since.”

Atsumu sighed as he finished his story, feeling like a load was taken out of his chest.

He stroked Kiyoomi’s hair. “Do you think I’m being immature?”

Kiyoomi turned his head and captured Atsumu’s hand between his sharp teeth, pressing down threateningly. He supposed that meant, _‘No.’_

Atsumu tugged his hand away. “Alright, I get it. I guess I’ll keep on ignoring them, then.”

A mewl, and then Kiyoomi tucked his head under Atsumu’s chin.

 _He needs a haircut_ , Atsumu thought idly, tucking a long lock of hair behind Kiyoomi’s ear.

It wasn’t until minutes later that he realized what was wrong with that. What was wrong since he stepped foot in his apartment. He froze, train of thought halting.“Omi,” Atsumu whispered in a shocked voice. “Where are your _ears_?”


	4. Chapter 4

He paced his living room, lost in thought. Even in his distraction, he could feel his teammates’ eyes follow his every move, but he ignored them for now.

This was not the way he had planned on seeing them again.

Finally, he whirled around and pointed at Bokuto. “Run that by me again.”

Osamu, whom he also called, rolled his eyes. “How many times does he have to tell you?”

Bokuto didn’t seem bothered. With a patient smile, he said, “If the hybrid can lose their animal parts, then they aren’t a hybrid! Silly, Tsum-Tsum.”

“I’m silly? _I’m_ silly? I’m—”

“So what you’re saying is,” Inunaki interrupted. “This idiot didn’t just run into a feral _hybrid_ , but a feral—”

“Shifter, yes!” Bokuto exclaimed, bouncing on the couch. “Most likely!”

Osamu palmed his face. “Oh my _god_.”

In the next instant, Bokuto was right up in Atsumu’s face, eerie gold eyes boring into his. “Can I meet him? Can I? Can I?”

Atsumu placed his hands on Bokuto’s shoulders and pushed him back. “Bokkun, I don’t think he’ll like that.”

“Why not?”

“He’s — prickly. And very grumpy.”

“But I gotta,” Bokuto nearly wailed. Everyone winced at the sound.

“Why are you so interested?” Meian asked him.

Bokuto blinked. Then blinked again. “Oh! That’s what I forgot to say.”

Apprehension niggled at Atsumu. “What?”

Taking a couple steps back, Bokuto grinned, his face shifting at the movement. His skin was stretched taught and — no, that wasn’t skin, those were **—**

“Feathers?” Atsumu whispered.

“I’m a shifter, too!” Bokuto announced proudly, eyes glimmering unnaturally.

Vision darkening, Atsumu hit the floor.

\--

A commotion woke him up.

There were sounds of snarling and hooting and yelling — and then his head spun when the memories accosted him.

He sat up from where he had been dumped on the couch and blinked at the sight of Kiyoomi being restrained by Osamu and Bokuto flailing feathery arms around, while the rest of the team stood cowering in a corner.

Seeing that he was awake, Adriah screeched, “Miya, your pet is trying to kill us!”

“He’s not a pet,” Atsumu snapped. “ _Omi_!”

Kiyoomi stilled, still snarling low with his teeth bared.

“Omi,” he called again impatiently.

With a final growl, Kiyoomi spun around and stalked towards Atsumu — and climbed on his lap.

“It clawed your doorknob to shreds,” Osamu informed him lightly.

“He’s a he,” Atsumu corrected peevishly. Then he glared at Kiyoomi. “You ruined the door again? I told you to stay in the room!”

Kiyoomi jutted his chin out and looked away haughtily.

“And I told you attacking people will get you sent to a facility!”

“Did you?” Osamu sounded invested now. “Didn’t you say you were sending — _him_ to a shelter after the holidays? By the way, it’s January 7th.”

The reminder jarred him. Has it really been over two weeks since he found Kiyoomi shivering beside a garbage bin? The memory squeezed his heart and he impulsively hugged the hybrid closer to him. Or shifter?

He pulled away and held Kiyoomi at arm’s length, looking him up and down. The ears were still gone, but his eyes were still unnatural, he still had his tail, and his claws were still the same. “Omi? Are you a hybrid?”

Kiyoomi cocked his head at him curiously.

“Are you a shifter?” he tried.

Blinking with what almost seemed like confusion, Kiyoomi lifted his nails to study them. At rest, his nails were extended and sharp, but he could elongate them until they resembled that of a cat’s.

He did that now, baring his claws, before retracting them. And he retracted and retracted them. Until his nails were flat and _very human_.

Yelping, Atsumu shot to his feet, shoving Kiyoomi off and letting him bounce on the couch. Displeased, Kiyoomi gave a little annoyed yowl.

“What the hell, Omi! Your claws! They’re gone!” He limped and teetered precariously until someone steadied him.

Eyes locking on the hand on Atsumu’s arm, Kiyoomi snarled furiously.

“Well, jeez!” Inunaki ripped his hand away and scurried back. “It’s damn possessive.”

“He,” Barnes said mildly.

“He’s been like that since day one,” Osamu said, studying Kiyoomi intently. “He really latched on to Tsumu.”

“Okay.” Atsumu took a deep breath, trying to grasp all this new information. “Okay, okay, okay. Omi-Omi’s a shifter. Bokkun’s a shifter. Anyone else got secrets they need to share?”

“Our family’s got a chimera gene somewhere,” Barnes said. “I had a hybrid uncle.”

“Okay,” Atsumu said.

“I didn’t believe in shifters until now,” Meian admitted. “I know they’re there, but it’s not like they _show_ themselves. They sounded like a myth to me.”

“Okay,” he repeated. “Me, too.”

“I’m in love with you,” Hinata said, speaking for the first time since he arrived.

“Okay,” he said again. “Me — _what?”_

“What,” Inunaki and Meian also said.

Bokuto flew to tackle Kiyoomi to the floor when he charged at Hinata.

\--

“I swear, he’s not usually this bad,” Atsumu said, trying to placate his terrified teammates, while pinning Kiyoomi down on the couch with a hand. “He’s — he’s not used to strangers, I guess. He hated Samu at first, but he could stand him now. Swear!”

“Yeah...I don’t think his problem is with _strangers_ ,” Adriah said, eyes flicking to Hinata.

Atsumu crouched in front of Kiyoomi, wincing at the pressure in his leg. It still felt tender. “Omi. I need you to _behave_.”

Kiyoomi stared at him, unimpressed.

“Do you want to be taken away?”

Averting his eyes, Kiyoomi pouted.

“No?”

A head shake.

“So you’ll be nice to my friends?”

Kiyoomi crossed his arms. The gesture left Atsumu stunned. Exactly when did Kiyoomi start becoming less of an animal and more of a man? When did that happen?

Would he be able to talk soon?

“Omi,” he prompted.

Reluctantly, Kiyoomi nodded.

Atsumu heaved himself up with a sigh and triumphantly faced his teammates. “There, see. He’s fine.”

They all gave him strange looks.

Bokuto took a couple steps forward. “So can I talk to him?”

After checking to see that Kiyoomi wasn’t going to start biting people’s hands off, Atsumu nodded.

Without an ounce of fear, Bokuto plopped down beside Kiyoomi. “So, shifter, huh? Which family?”

Kiyoomi just looked at him and flicked his tail.

“Cat? You know, I’m really good friends with a couple of cat shifters! One of them is all black and the other one’s a calico!”

“Just how many shifters are out there?” Atsumu wondered.

“We’ve always been here,” Bokuto shrugged. “Just in hiding. And I know them because I’m one, too. Guess we tend to flock together.”

“So you,” Meian seemed to be having difficulty wrapping his mind around things, “Bokuto-kun, you have roots in the Fukuro family…?”

Bokuto puffed out his chest, his feathers flaring proudly. “Yeah! I mean I’m not directly from _the_ Fukuros, but my great-great-grandfather married into the family.”

“And he was human? That’s okay?”

“Of course, how do you think shifters came into existence anyway? Magical spirits fell in love with humans. And the original families got bigger because they mated with humans.” Bokuto turned solemn. “It’s the only way to pass the shifter gene, you know. Reproduce. Not...not what they did.”

The mood in the room dropped.

Bokuto turned back to study Kiyoomi’s face shamelessly. “I’ve met many shifters but you’re a weird one though…”

“Yeah, I thought that,” Atsumu said, approaching. “Something’s a bit off about him, right?”

After another moment of staring, Bokuto decided, “It’s the eyes. They don’t look very feline. They look...old.”

“Like a demon?” Atsumu supplied. He sat down on Kiyoomi’s other side and grabbed his chin so he could see. Kiyoomi’s eyes were inky black pools, but he knew they took on a different shine in the night. It had scared him half to death before. “Knew you were a weirdo.”

Kiyoomi curled his fingers and rested sharp, deadly claws on the top of Atsumu’s head. A silent threat.

Gasps echoed around the room. Atsumu rolled his eyes and plucked the hand off, studying the fingers. “If you can do that with your nails, can you make your ears pop out again?” He kind of missed them. They had melted into human ears and Atsumu didn’t even see it happening.

Furrowing his brows, Kiyoomi took on an expression of concentration and everyone seemed to hold their breath. They waited. And waited.

Finally, Kiyoomi’s ears grew bigger, black fur covering them.

“You did it!” Atsumu crowed.

Kiyoomi’s head twitched and more fur spread down his neck. He shut his eyes.

“Um, Omi, you already did it…”

There was no stopping the transformation. Kiyoomi’s face melted into a different shape, his skin sprouting black hairs, muscles shifting and crackling and burgeoning. The sounds of clothes ripping at the seams startled them.

Atsumu and Bokuto jumped off the couch, eyes locked on the shifter, who fell on all fours on the floor, pieces of fabric falling around him. Heart pounding wildly, Atsumu watched as the cat hybrid he’d grown fond of turn into something else entirely.

“Oh my god,” someone whispered.

As the animal in front of them shook its sleek, graceful body and pinned them into place with his stare, Atsumu realized once again that he was in over his head.

Kiyoomi wasn’t a cat hybrid, or even a cat shifter.

He was a _panther_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW mentions of past abuse and other bad stuff

When the shifters first introduced themselves to the world, five families came forward without fear: the Fukuros, the Inaris, the Nekomatas, the Ushijimas...and the Sakusas.

Their names were etched in history books, their likeness displayed in museums — large horned owls with unsettling eyes, foxes with nine tails, cats of all shapes and sizes, majestic eagles with deadly talons, and sleek black panthers with equally black eyes.

 _I’m so stupid_ , Atsumu thought faintly. _The eyes. I should have known by the eyes._

No one else would have eyes like that.

“Sakusa,” Bokuto whispered. He gripped Atsumu’s shoulder and shook it. “Tsum-Tsum, that’s a Sakusa!”

“No way.” Hinata sounded stunned.

He could understand their shock. When the shifter families once again assimilated themselves into society a few years ago, there was one that was glaringly absent.

There was a reason people thought panther shifters were extinct, and that was because the Sakusas never again stepped back into the light.

“Right now, I’m more concerned about the fact that we have a panther in the room with us,” Inunaki pointed out in a shrill voice. “Oh my god, it’s coming closer.”

The panther — Kiyoomi? — was slinking towards them, heavy paws landing on the wooden floor with a click of its lethal claws. 

Everyone crowded against the wall; even Atsumu couldn’t help but step back, hairs on his arms rising.

At the movement, Kiyoomi stopped, endless black eyes staring back at Atsumu. They looked almost — _hurt_?

Abandoning all his common sense, Atsumu went to the creature.

“ _Tsumu_ ,” Osamu hissed. “Fucking get _back here_!”

Atsumu landed on his knees, wincing at the strain on his leg. A moment later, a large head was bumping him under the chin.

All his fear drained out of his body, and he let himself fall back on his ass on the floor, arms full of wild animal.

“Omi?” he asked.

The mewl was startlingly familiar and he started laughing uncontrollably.

“Holy shit, Omi-Omi! Look at you!” He petted the smooth, shiny coat enthusiastically, thoroughly fascinated. “Wow.”

“Wow, indeed,” Barnes said, sounding impressed. “I can’t believe you found a _panther_ , Atsumu-kun.”

“I can’t believe you have zero survival instincts,” Osamu said.

“It's just Omi,” he insisted. He received a long lick on the cheek for that and he wrinkled his nose. “Oh, gross. Omi, what the hell.”

Kiyoomi bumped his snout on Atsumu’s forehead, then placed a paw on his chest. And pushed.

“ _Oof_.” Atsumu landed on his back, and a moment later, Kiyoomi was folding his body on top of him, curling his forelegs and resting his chin on top of them.

Atsumu gaped at him. “Are you seriously going to nap right now?”

Kiyoomi shut his eyes in answer.

“Um.” He craned his head to look at his brother and teammates. “Help?”

“Yeah, no.” Osamu pushed himself off from the wall and headed to the door. “I’ll call later to check if you’re still alive.”

Glancing amongst each other, most of his teammates shrugged and followed. There were _bye_ s and _see you_ s and _call you later dude_ s, and then they were trooping out the door.

Bokuto and Hinata didn’t budge, apparently having decided to stay.

Meian hesitated on the doorway. “It was really nice to see you, Atsumu-kun. The team really missed you.”

A lump formed in his throat.

His captain gave him a warm smile. “I'm happy to see you’re doing well. And I’m looking forward to having you back on the court.”

And then he was shutting the door behind him.

Ignoring the elephant in the room, Atsumu reached up and stroked the wide head of the panther pretending to sleep on top of him. Yeah, he knew he was pretending, there was no way Kiyoomi would nap with strangers in his territory.

“Wanna get up, Omi-kun?”

No movement.

“Wanna try to go back to, er...the way you were before?”

Kiyoomi peeked at him through half-lidded eyes.

“If you do, I’ll buy you more umeboshi.”

Ears perking up, Kiyoomi lifted his upper body and sat up on Atsumu’s stomach, knocking the breath out of him.

“Heavy,” he wheezed.

Kiyoomi seemed to concentrate once more, and this time it took much longer before any of them could see a difference.

But eventually, his fur rippled and made way for human flesh, muscles shrinking into a leaner shape, claws retracting into fingernails, ears melting into that of a human’s.

And then, amazingly, even the tail disappeared.

“Holy crap,” he heard Hinata say.

Sitting there, buck naked, was an entirely human Sakusa Kiyoomi.

He blinked his eyes open — still wholly black — and parted his lips, showing flat, tiny teeth.

_“At...su...mu.”_

And then he passed out into Atsumu’s ready arms.

\--

The hot cocoa scalded his tongue when he took a gulp. He set the mug on the dining table with a thunk.

“I don’t know what to do now,” he admitted.

Bokuto gave him a sympathetic look. “I mean...his family is probably looking for him, right? They gotta be out there somewhere.”

And wasn’t that the problem? Kiyoomi could shift from human to animal now, and he could talk. He said Atsumu’s name. Whatever went wrong with him over the holidays seemed to be reversed.

There was nothing stopping him now from walking out the door and out of Atsumu’s life forever.

“That’s...good, right?” Hinata asked, giving him a cautious look. “Wouldn’t he want to go home? I’d miss my family if that were me…”

He felt a flash of resentment, but buried it. _I’m in love with you_ , Hinata had said. Fuck, he wasn’t ready to think about that yet. He had to focus on Kiyoomi, who was sleeping soundly in his futon.

“Look at it this way, at least he won’t be locked up in a shelter now,” Bokuto said.

“I guess,” he admitted.

“And you never wanted to keep him, right?” Hinata asked. “He was never meant to stay. Right?”

Atsumu pushed his chair back and stood up. “I’m really tired. You guys should go.”

Bokuto bounced to his feet and crushed Atsumu into a hug. “I missed you, Tsum-Tsum. Don’t stay away for too long again, okay? And if you have any questions about shifters, just call me!”

He felt a wave of fondness for his friend and hugged him back tight. “I will, I will.”

When they separated, Bokuto looked at Hinata expectantly. Flicking a glance at Atsumu, Hinata said, “Actually Bokuto-san, go ahead. I was hoping to talk to Atsumu-san.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Bokuto said in understanding. “Alright! Bye!”

When Bokuto was gone, Atsumu shifted his weight from foot to foot. “Shouyou-kun…”

“I meant it,” Hinata cut in, meeting his eyes bravely. He had a tendency of fixating on things with a look, and if Atsumu didn’t know better, he’d think he was a shifter, too. “I’m in love with you, Atsumu.”

A couple months ago, when he was at his lowest, Atsumu would have clung to the words like a lifeline. But now they did nothing but make him a little sad. “Shouyou...no, you don’t.”

“You don’t get to decide that.”

“What about Tobio-kun?”

“Nothing happened!” Hinata argued. “It was just the one kiss, then — then nothing! Because I was dating you! Why would I go to him?”

Atsumu blinked. “So you never got together?”

“No! And if you ever bothered to answer my messages and phone calls, I could have told you that.”

Rubbing his forehead, Atsumu sighed. Now that he thought about it, they never actually broke up, at least not explicitly. But he thought it was clear by the way they fizzled out. “Shouyou-kun...are you doing this out of guilt? Or maybe you feel obligated?”

When Hinata didn’t answer, Atsumu smiled sadly.

“Maybe it’s true you love me, but I know it’s also true you love him. How would you be sure if you don’t give him a shot?”

Hinata blinked at him owlishly, uncomprehending.

“Shouyou-kun. You know as well as I do that we’ve been over for months now. It’s _okay._ I’m okay. I mean, it was shitty at first but...I’m not the one for you. I’m not what you want. We both know who you’re really thinking about right now.”

Biting his lip, Hinata looked away. And that was all the answer Atsumu needed.

“I’m giving you my blessing. Seriously, just go.”

Sniffling, Hinata turned away. As Atsumu watched him leave, he was awash with a feeling that wasn’t quite emptiness.

It felt kind of like relief.

He took his time washing their mugs on the sink, gathering his thoughts. To delay the inevitable, he even straightened out the mess the team had made in the living room.

After checking the door and the windows and the appliances, he finally made his way to his bedroom.

Kiyoomi was still asleep.

Atsumu studied him for a while, took in his porcelain skin, the lean muscles, the moles. The lack of furry ears and tail and claws. It was so...strange.

But he was beautiful.

He shoved the thought away and headed to the shower.

By the time he was clean and damp and wearing more comfortable clothes, Kiyoomi’s eyes were open. As Atsumu approached, Kiyoomi watched him expectantly.

“Hi,” he said, with lack of anything better to say.

It took a few tries before Kiyoomi could say, “Hi.”

Still, it shocked Atsumu to the core. “Holy shit.”

Kiyoomi snorted and kicked away the blankets, reminding Atsumu that he was very, very naked.

He cleared his throat and hurried to his closet. “You need to put on clothes.”

The shifter let out a displeased noise — his hatred for clothes was still intact, apparently. That at least was the same.

Atsumu awkwardly helped him into boxers and a shirt, cheeks hot. He had half a mind to sleep on the couch again, but before he could move away, Kiyoomi grabbed him and pulled him down.

They curled around each other in movements that spoke of familiarity, and the weirdness dissipated into thin air.

“So what happened?” Atsumu asked. “You can talk! How come you couldn’t before?”

Kiyoomi tapped his throat with a finger. He croaked out, “Vocal chords. Stuck.”

“Huh.” That made sense, he supposed. “Why didn’t you fix it?”

“Couldn’t...remember...how.” This time he tapped his temple. “Stuck.”

Atsumu stared at him. “Yeah, I’m gonna need a better explanation. But it could wait.”

For now, they would sleep.

\--

Miraculously, days went on. They ate together; he had to help Kiyoomi with his chopsticks because he seemed to have forgotten how to use them. They watched movies together, and this time Kiyoomi held a running commentary for each. It seemed that he missed talking, or he was practicing how to form words again, because he wouldn’t stop now. He was always going, “Atsumu, look,” and “Atsumu, I want that,” and “Atsumu, it’s cold.”

The last one was always a prompt to cuddle him, and while Atsumu always obeyed, it was _weird_ now. Kiyoomi wasn’t the same needy half-cat creature he’d found in the streets. He was a man.

Do guy friends do this?

Whatever. It felt nice.

Atsumu continued going to physical therapy, and this time Kiyoomi went with him. In a shy voice, Kiyoomi admitted that Atsumu’s first therapy session was what triggered his desire to transform back into a human, because he didn’t want to be left behind. He wanted to tag along.

“You mean to tell that if I just dragged my ass outside sooner, you’d have transformed earlier?” Atsumu demanded.

Kiyoomi shrugged. “Maybe not? The first few days with you were a blur...I barely remember what happened. I was really out of it. I don’t even know how I got to the street where you found me in, I was running on instinct.”

Atsumu itched to ask just what the hell happened that led to Kiyoomi starving and freezing alone in the middle of winter, but he bit his tongue. Kiyoomi would tell him once he was ready.

His sessions were going well. It was still painful, and his leg wasn’t improving much, but he felt a lot better about himself after.

When they got home one day, Kiyoomi said, “I do remember somehow thinking that you were sad. And I knew I had to stay and look after you.”

Atsumu choked on air. “You _what_?”

“What?” Kiyoomi blinked at him. “ _You_ looked after me.”

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Why was he blushing?

January turned to February, and it only seemed to grow colder. They stayed warm by cuddling under thick blankets as they watched the latest anime shows that Atsumu failed to keep up with. Though they had to start from the beginning because Kiyoomi never watched them at all.

One day, Kiyoomi said, “Atsumu, take me to play volleyball.”

“What?” Atsumu paused the episode of ‘Attack on Titan’ and looked at Kiyoomi. “You know how?”

Kiyoomi nodded. “My cousin taught me when we were young. We played a lot over the years, and he’s a pro now. But I went to college.”

Atsumu sat up, blinking. “Hold on. You — _you_ went to college?”

Patiently, Kiyoomi said, “I understand I seemed like nothing but an animal when we first met, but I’m actually rather well-educated, Atsumu.”

“It just seems so normal,” he said lamely. Just how many people that he interacted with daily were hidden _shifters_? Speaking of — “Hey, isn’t it cheating that shifters join sports teams and shit? Don’t you get, like, special abilities?”

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes. “You’ve read too many YA novels. Do you see Bokuto flying during games?”

“Well...no.”

“And do you see cat shifters hitting balls with their tails?”

“No, but—”

“It’s true that shifters are more in tune with their animal side compared to hybrids, but when they’re in their human form, they’re human. Mostly. They have better reflexes, and their senses are sharper, but they don’t have super speed or super strength or anything. It’s not so different from normal people who are just more athletic than others. Just look at Hinata — from the matches I’ve watched, he looks like he could jump abnormally high, and is faster than average.”

“So Shouyou’s not a shifter?” He had seriously been wondering.

“No. He’s just an exceptional human.”

“I see.” A thought struck him. “What about hybrids? Theoretically, could they play, too?”

“They should be allowed to. For the same reasons stated above. But society’s not quite there yet. I’m hoping one day soon — I know for a fact that there are shifter board members at the Japan Volleyball Association, and that they’ve recently been hiring hybrids as staff. Things are changing.”

That was nice and all, but Atsumu’s mind was stuck on one thing. He squinted at Kiyoomi. “How’d you know about the shifter board members?”

“Did you forget I’m a Sakusa?” Kiyoomi asked curiously. “We’ve been hiding from the public eye, but we haven’t been sleeping. My family has connections. I suppose you could say they’re important people.”

If that wasn’t an opening, then Atsumu didn’t know what was. “And your family...aren’t they looking for you?”

Kiyoomi dropped his eyes and lightly clawed at the blankets with extended nails. “They probably are, yeah.”

Something was squeezing Atsumu’s heart, making it hard to breathe. “Then— then shouldn’t you go to them?”

“I guess I don’t — I don’t want to tell them yet. What happened.”

He took the plunge. “Could you tell me? What happened?”

Kiyoomi was silent for a while. Then he turned to his side and looked at Atsumu. “Okay.”

Atsumu hastily shut the laptop and placed it at the edge of his futon. He settled down and faced Kiyoomi. “Okay.”

“It’s stupid.” Kiyoomi frowned. “I just graduated university, you know, earlier this year.”

“Oh.”

“But I didn’t know what I wanted to do yet. And I didn’t want to go home to my family. So I stayed in my apartment in Tokyo, wasting the days away. And I...met someone.”

“Oh?”

“I just went to a bar once, and I met him there. We got to talking. He seemed nice, introduced himself as Sean. I guess I liked him. Gave him my number.”

Atsumu didn’t know what to do with the information that Sakusa Kiyoomi was gay. Ah, fuck. Things just got a bit more complicated.

“We met up a few times at the same bar. And then one night, when I was in my apartment, he sent me a text. _‘I know what you really are.'_ ”

Goosebumps spread up Atsumu’s arms. “Okay...hella creepy.”

“Yeah,” Kiyoomi agreed. “So I panicked. When he said to meet him at the same bar, I went without thinking about it. I couldn’t find him at first so I walked around. When I was near the fire exit — everything just turned dark. And I woke up in a cage.”

Oh god, no.

Kiyoomi continued the story in short, flat sentences, as if it happened to someone else. “They sold me, shipped me away. They locked me up. I only knew I was sent to Kansai because of the accent. My _‘owner’_ was rich. Liked to be called _‘Master._ ’ He was just some dumb, vain airhead at first, but when he’s drunk — when he’s drunk, he’s cruel. Fucked up in the head. Made me do things like shift to my hybrid form and dress up in maids’ costumes. He’d watch me as he drank. Then he’d pass out.

“He got worse. Just got drunk every day, until he mostly forgot me. Forgot to feed me, forgot to give me water, or let me out to go to the toilet. It was hell. I hate being dirty, you know. But during those months...I was disgusting. I lived in my own filth and I couldn’t complain. Because if I did, he’d hit me.”

Fury consumed Atsumu. “He _what_?”

“He was violent. At first he just used to grab me very hard. But as time passed, he started shoving me and pushing me and kicking me. On the night I escaped,” Kiyoomi faltered, “on the night I escaped, he was drunk and angry. Said something about losing money. He made me change into my hybrid form but before I could finish, he started just — hitting me. And hitting me. He beat me bloody. But he made a mistake. He passed out...and left my cage open.

“I remember running. It was cold, and my feet were bleeding, but I kept running. And the next days remain hazy in my mind, but I remember being hungry and thirsty and just — _cold_. I’d hide whenever I heard people pass by, and sometimes someone saw me but apparently they didn’t care. And I’d always return to the garbage bin because sometimes someone threw uneaten food.” Kiyoomi locked his gaze on Atsumu. “And then you found me and helped me be warm.”

Kiyoomi reached out and wiped the tears that had made their way down Atsumu’s cheeks. “You weren’t eating, were you. When you gave me your coats, I recognized the scent on the food packages. And I followed you because I knew you were safe.”

“I’m glad you did,” Atsumu whispered wetly.

“Me, too,” Kiyoomi smiled. “I don’t want to leave.”

Atsumu broke down crying, heart crushed to pieces. He didn’t know how to live with the knowledge of the suffering that Kiyoomi had gone through, and the knowledge that he had _left him_ on the street even after finding him. He pulled Kiyoomi into his arms and held on tight. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I left you there.”

“It’s okay.” Kiyoomi hugged him back. “I know you were going through something yourself. And you still let me stay and you still took care of me. Even when you could barely take care of yourself.”

Atsumu pressed his lips to Kiyoomi’s forehead, stroking the back of his head. “I’ll never let you be cold or hungry again ever. And I’ll hunt down the people who hurt you and make them pay.”

Kiyoomi nuzzled his head under Atsumu’s chin. “Let them rot in hell. I don’t want to think about them anymore. I just want to watch movies with you and maybe one day play volleyball with you.”

That was easy enough. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Good.” The word came out as a purr. “Then get that leg in shape and take me to a volleyball court.”

\--

But of course, real life is no fairytale, despite the existence of magical beings like shifters.

That was clear enough when he and Kiyoomi exited his apartment building to find a black car waiting on the road.

“Kiyoomi,” a tall woman said, and Atsumu instantly knew this was no ordinary human. Another moment of studying her made it click — ah, this was Kiyoomi’s mother.

Oh.

Beside him, Kiyoomi was frozen. “Mother?”

The woman had tears in her eyes. “Oh, Kiyoomi. We’ve been looking everywhere for you, baby.”

“How...how did you find me?” That’s right, Kiyoomi said he lived in Tokyo before being shipped to Osaka. It said a lot about the his family’s reach that they were here now.

“Some of the people we hired found you wandering around in this area, they followed you.” She shook her head sharply. “Not important right now. Baby, where have you _been_?”

“I— it’s a long story and I—” Kiyoomi seemed to run out of words. His eyes were watering, too.

And at the sight of his tears, Atsumu knew he had to let him go. He placed a hand on Kiyoomi’s back and pushed.

Kiyoomi whipped his head around to stare at him. “Atsumu?”

“Go,” he said quietly. “They’ve been looking for you, Omi.”

Pouty red lips trembled. “But—”

“You’ll be safer with them.” Because this wasn’t the place Kiyoomi belonged in, right? Not in some rundown apartment in Osaka where anyone could pass by. Not when Kiyoomi was a special creature who was in danger of being hunted down for sport. What could Atsumu offer him? What could he do? He could barely walk for long periods of time.

And his family had been searching for him for months. And clearly, he missed them, too.

It was time he returned to his real home.

Atsumu stroked Kiyoomi’s curly hair, brushing wild locks out of his face. He was so beautiful. Too beautiful for the likes of Atsumu. “Go home. Be safe.”

“Kiyoomi, dear,” his mother called. “Let’s go. Young man,” her eyes lingered on Atsumu, “we’ll be sure to show our appreciation at a later time. Thank you for looking out for my son.”

Atsumu nodded. He couldn’t bear to watch Kiyoomi walk away, but he felt him leave his side.

Kiyoomi’s eyes were boring into him as he entered the car, but Atsumu didn’t look up.

He really wasn’t good at losing things. Or he was too good at it — he didn’t know.

All he knew was that it was getting cold again.


	6. Chapter 6

February melted into March, and winter made way for spring. The MSBY Black Jackals failed to reach the finals. Atsumu didn’t accept his teammates’ calls after their final game, but he read the updates online.

He didn’t answer Osamu’s calls either. His twin had been calling almost every day since he texted, _‘He’s gone, he left, he’s safe.’_

Atsumu’s life was very quiet.

But he kept going to his physical therapy, because he made a promise, and his leg, at least, was getting better. A few more months and it would be like nothing happened.

Spurred by his own achievements, Atsumu slowly tried to get his life back together. He ate the food that Osamu sent without complaint. He cleaned his apartment, which he used to think as small, but now felt so big. He started working out again, even started playing with his volleyball again, tossing it into the air while he laid down, lost in thought.

When he attempted to pay for his monthly due at the hospital, he was told that he no longer had a balance. His debt was paid for.

All of it.

And when he returned to his apartment the same day, a brand new mattress was there, along with new pillows and bed sheets.

But what the hell was he going to do with all these if he didn’t have Kiyoomi to cuddle with? Even the futon felt too spacious now.

Atsumu missed that damn brat every day. But he comforted himself by the fact that he was probably doing well. He never showed his face again, so Atsumu was just going to learn to let him go.

When he saw in the news that some creep who went by ‘ _Master’_ was arrested for violations against hybrids, he knew he made the right choice letting Kiyoomi go.

In April, Hinata and Kageyama announced that they were a couple. The same month, the law about discrimination against hybrids was amended to include shifters, because more and more of them were coming out now, and the public were realizing that the people around them were not always as they seemed.

And come May, the JVA passed an ordinance declaring that shifters and hybrids were allowed to play in professional teams, provided that they weren’t overly aggressive, violent, or feral.

This prompted Bokuto to come out as an owl shifter. And a player from the Schweiden Adlers, whom everyone just knew as Wakatoshi, revealed that he was actually part of the Ushijima clan. Meanwhile, his teammate Hoshiumi Kourai was apparently a _seagull_ shifter.

What the hell. Atsumu didn’t even know those were a thing.

He was learning new things every day.

In June, Minato gave him the go signal to start playing again. “You still have to come over for sessions, but not as often. And it goes without saying, but be careful with that leg. Stretch every day, hmm? And don’t forget the other exercises.”

To celebrate, he went and had a haircut, and had his roots touched up as well. He was feeling more and more like himself.

When he visited Osamu, his twin choked up and hugged him. “Ya fucker. Thought you’d never show your ugly mug around here again.”

Atsumu thumped him hard on the back. “Are ya cryin’? Gross.”

And when he walked into the Black Jackals’ gym, everyone cheered.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said drily after pulling away from Foster’s crushing hug. “My leg’s all better now. Gotta take it easy though.”

“That’s fine,” Foster said, patting him on the shoulder. “Meian here will knock you out if he sees you overworking yourself.”

“Definitely,” Meian said.

“Hi, Atsumu-san,” Hinata said hesitantly.

Atsumu smiled at him. “Hey, Shouyou-kun.”

“And now it’s time for you to meet our new team member,” Foster announced. “Akio retired, as you might have heard.”

“Yeah.” Then the words sank in. “Wait, new member?”

“Man, Tsum-Tsum, you’re really out of it! He’s been here the whole time.” Bokuto grinned at him and jerked his thumb towards the bleachers. “You already know him though.”

His heartbeat picked up for reasons he couldn’t explain. An awareness took hold of him, and his eyes were helplessly drawn towards the figure who was now approaching.

The team parted to let Sakusa Kiyoomi through.

“Omi?” he whispered. This wasn’t possible. Was he dreaming? Last he checked, he returned with his family to Tokyo.

He blinked several times, but the image wasn’t going away. It was Kiyoomi — he was sporting a new haircut and he looked more built, but it was undoubtedly him.

Kiyoomi stopped in front of him, looking ticked off. “You took your time.”

“ _What_?”

“I’ve been here for a month. Why did you only return now?”

“Well,” he spluttered. “You know — my leg! And I should be asking _you_ that! Why are you here?”

“I said I want to play volleyball with you.” Kiyoomi was looking at him as if he was stupid. “And _you_ said to go home and be safe, so I’m doing that.”

The implications had Atsumu tearing up. He sniffled. “Omi?”

Kiyoomi seemed to be done playing it cool because he pounced on Atsumu and sent them both crashing to the ground. There was laughter around them, but Atsumu could barely breathe from the weight on top of him.

 _Heavy_ , he thought. Heavier than he’d ever been.

Atsumu wrapped his arms around Kiyoomi, marvelling at the space he took up. He squeezed him. “Look at you. You gained weight.”

Kiyoomi nosed at Atsumu’s cheek and purred.

Sitting up was a struggle, but soon he was upright with Kiyoomi resting contentedly on his lap.

Atsumu touched the furry ears that had popped back out. “Lost control there, huh.”

A black tail whacked him in irritation and he couldn’t help but laugh. It felt like forever since Kiyoomi communicated with him this way, and the memory had him tearing up.

Kiyoomi glanced at his face then leaned forward and hugged him around the neck. “Stop crying. I’m here already.”

Atsumu hugged him back tightly. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

Kiyoomi’s tail flicked around, agitated. “You told me to leave,” he muttered. “You made me go away.”

Leaning back, Atsumu gripped him by the arms. “You had to go _home_.”

“I was already home,” Kiyoomi snapped. “But you didn’t want me there!”

“Of course I wanted you there! But your family was looking for you, Kiyoomi!”

Kiyoomi hissed at him furiously. “I sent the mattress, but you’re not even using it. You rejected my gift.”

“What — were you — were you _stalking_ me?”

Seemingly realizing he said too much, Kiyoomi averted his eyes. “I was just checking that you were eating.”

“You were there,” Atsumu realized. “You creeper! Stalker!”

“Shut up!” Kiyoomi snarled.

“Oh my god,” Inunaki said. “There are two of them now.”

They jumped at the interruption, remembering that they weren’t alone. Atsumu cleared his throat and tried to move Kiyoomi off his lap. He refused to budge, clinging tighter at Atsumu.

Atsumu rubbed his back. “Hey. Come on, we gotta practice. We can talk more later.”

“When we go home?” Kiyoomi’s voice was small and it tugged at Atsumu’s heart.

He pressed a kiss to Kiyoomi’s neck. “Yeah. When we go home.”

It was a promise.

Later that afternoon, Kiyoomi followed Atsumu into his apartment, declaring that he didn’t want to stay in the Jackals’ sharehouse because _‘I want to stay here.’_

Together, they lowered the bed frame where it should be, then unwrapped the mattress and covered it with sheets. The whole time, Kiyoomi was chattering about buying the plants Atsumu had wanted to get before but never remembered to, and planning all the movies they were going to watch, and listing down all the restaurants that he wanted Atsumu to take him to.

When Atsumu expressed concern about Kiyoomi’s security, he only said, “The reason our family is not revealing our existence is because we want to stay safe. It’s just all too troublesome to deal with. No one knows what I am, and maybe one day I’d come out, but not anytime soon. As long as I’m not stupid again, I should be fine here.”

“That was not your fault,” Atsumu said firmly.

He made a mental note to buy better locks regardless. And maybe look into better apartments.

When the bed was ready, they tumbled eagerly into it, limbs already intertwined.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi said seriously. “Don’t send me away again.”

“I won’t,” he promised in a thick voice. “Stay with me.”

Kiyoomi looked down at him tenderly, brushing his hair away from his face, nose inches away from his. “I told you. I don’t want to leave. You’re my human.”

The kiss was the furthest thing from a surprise. It felt like a long time coming, yet it arrived just in time; it felt like coming home.

Atsumu tugged Kiyoomi closer and kissed him harder, wanting to swallow him whole until it was impossible to separate them.

Kiyoomi pulled away, but not before pressing a softer, much sweeter kiss on Atsumu’s lips. “Nap time now?”

Atsumu couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, nap time now.”

They had time for everything else tomorrow.

Curled in each other’s arms, they slept together, safe and sound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kittyomi/ Omimeow can be something so personal to me
> 
> Anyway you can follow me on Twitter (@lettersinpetals)!


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